


swimming starlet

by azureforest



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Agender Character, Card Games, Diving, Gen, Nonbinary Character, Picnics, Sharing a Body, inappropriate use of living shadow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 19:25:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19257643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azureforest/pseuds/azureforest
Summary: in a world where the water is home, the whorl was a nightmare to haunt their dreams- stormy seas, raging waves, dancing by a malicious hand- yet they still come back to the shore, wander fearlessly in the waters.their shadow hesitates.





	swimming starlet

**Author's Note:**

> i started this on the day the shb skill trailer dropped but only got it done today whoops
> 
> wol is written semi-ambiguously but its just my dumb xaela from the mankhad tribe. they're simple and not very good at calling on fray responsibly. ekh and eej is just mother and mom in mongolian, and oktai is a nickname-pseudo-name they gave fray. hideously self-indulgent stuff, ahoy!
> 
> that said, please enjoy!

La Noscea is blessedly warm, the gentle lap of waves washing over memories of dreadful tempests, screaming winds, wood groaning and slippery beneath armored feet, air saturated with roiling aether. They are no stranger to the sea, but that was the first time they felt the water was truly malevolent- Not aimlessly as Nhaama is wont to pull her, but with intent. The depths tore greedily at their legs, threatening to drown them, and they had been afraid- Afraid, because it was not a sea dancing by a familiar hand.

 _Who else but me?,_ they had thought, trying not to let sword and shield slip from their drenched grasp. They were scared. so scared, but they grit their teeth and weathered the storm.

 **_Terrifying_** , their shadow had called it, cruelly loving in how they dug their gauntlets back into a fight they’d tried to forget. They were unreadable with their face turned toward the horizon- But the warrior remembers how that same shadow stood at the edge of the docks, swaying with the rhythm of the water, balanced on the edge with no fear of falling. They remember the fondness in molten eyes when they said they _hated_ the ocean, lips twisting in the same wistful way one would describe a home twice-removed.

Still, the warrior wonders if they’d meant it. The sea is home to them, both of them- But for their shadow it is only home to half of a patchwork whole, strange to the other accustomed only to a warmer Ishgard of years long past and acquainted with the bitter cold after Dalamud’s fall. They wonder if they still hate the coast and the endless expanse of water when the memories tinge it darker- Wonder if they’ll keep hating it, mired in that shade. To the warrior, the water still beckons, brushes along their ankles in a gentle caress.

Sabatons and gauntlets shucked off, they wade in until the waves lap against their knees, feel shell and stone digging into the soles of their feet, see the tiny fish flitting about in the shallows. It is a sunny afternoon, far removed from torrential rain. The hard line in their shoulders eases. Calloused hands weave into the cloth of their skirt, moving as if picking along a fishing net. This ocean will not hurt them again, they hope.

It will not rise against them here, they believe.

 **_Nowhere to run_** , they recall, a trembling voice, irate golden eyes not their own.

“Nowhere but the depths,” they sigh, crouching and watching the surface shimmer in the light. The water still looks the same, here, even if they don’t know every rapid, every current, even if they don’t know where the pufferfish swim. Perhaps they could learn. Perhaps this could be their adventure?

“... Fray?”

A nudge goes unanswered, the usual as of late; So they shrug and content themselves with basking in sun, foam, brine. They hope their shadow understands, even as they slumber, even as the warrior crouches in the sunlight, a speck of sandy blonde and black scales in the glittering shallows.

They hold a hand to the waves, let the water flow between their fingers, imagine it's Fray’s hand filling the gaps.

"Oktai," they whisper. "Let’s go together, sometime."

The abyss gives no response, but they grin when black aether simmers warm beneath their palm.

 

* * *

 

They find comfort in the dark, where the sun’s rays no longer touch the ocean floor. They are a malm underneath the horizon, uncrushed and still able to breathe. Blessed by the water and the Mothercrystal’s light, they dive without fear; Loved by the dark and partaking of the unknown, they venture into trenches and caves and come back with shells and pearls that glitter even from the dim light of their limbal rings. They play in the silence far below the waves, unaware of wind, storms, the time of day, shifting eternally between floating among the wavekin and hanging in a watery void. Like the water, they are fluid, they are endless, they are- If only for a moment- Free, in those quiet currents, to drift, to come and go.

_Nowhere but the depths, huh?_

Eyes bright, they swim further.

Fray mumbles uneasily in the back of their mind, a figure turning over in fitful sleep; They slumber less, these days, humor the warrior’s antics more often, metaphorically yank at their horns to remind them to take care of themself. The warrior holds their spoils to the meagre light that makes its way to their perch. _Look_ , they mouth, drawing upon the other- Smiling as their soul crystal warms against their chest, even in the cold of the Ruby Sea's depths.

 **_Enlighten me; Where exactly do you plan on keeping all that?_ ** The aether rolls beneath the surface like Fray would their eyes. A flurry of bubbles escape the warrior’s mouth as they laugh.

 _I don’t know!_ they cackle. _But they’re pretty, and_ ekh _and_ eej _would love them, wouldn’t they, Oktai?_

 **_Fury’s_ ** **_tits_** ** _, the Steppes? I can’t fathom how you manage to prove yourself more daft with each passing day._ **

The warrior feels half-tempted to cross their arms on Fray’s behalf, the tip of their tail flicking. _Is that a challenge?_

 ** _…_** **_Do you want it to be?_**

_With all my heart._

The soul crystal shimmers, and one of their baubles catch the glint, an impression of molten metal, exasperated but amused all the same. **_Then, by all means, make a fool of yourself. I’ll be watching._ **

Grabbing their net, they think of all the other trinkets they have stashed in their shack at Isari, and kick off their little outcrop towards the surface. _You always are._

A phantom warmth clasps around their hand, firmly, making sure numb fingers don’t lose their grip on the spoils- And that same phantom huffs, flickering in the spaces between falling moonbeams.

**_Unfortunately._ **

 

* * *

 

The sun is rising over the peaks, the horizon tinged a thin layer of orange- The warrior’s eyes are fixed on the light from where they sit atop their yol. It glints off the piles of salt below like it would the snows of Coerthas, shimmers where it strikes the surface of the Lochs. The bird floats lower, her wingtips almost touching the water as she glides, leaving a silent wake behind.

The warrior looks down to their reflection and grins.

 **_Don’t you dare,_ **Fray hisses.

“Tuya!” they shout, flicking the reins, wholly ignoring the other, and their yol squawks before rising- Spinning, throwing the warrior clean off their back and into the loch. Fray’s dismayed glower echoes loud in their skull as they tumble with a shriek of delight and half a modicum of grace at most- They hit the water with a terrific splash, sufficiently geared to counteract the natural buoyancy of the salt-packed water, but not quite enough to sink like a stone.

Still, they sink, plunging into the sunken city by choice- Close their eyes as the bubbles pearl off their hair, skin, clothes, before flitting around the spires with the ease of a Kojin, distant sunrise kissing the tips in warm light but leaving the depths untouched.

 **_Like some thoroughly shitefaced one-night-stand,_ ** Fray sneers. The warrior chokes on salt and water and laughter. Their aether intertwines, a hand reaching out to brush along the crumbling rock- The remains of an alley, a plaza, a watchtower all theirs to explore and determine. And still their shadow urges them to look more, to poke their head into caves, illuminated by frozen bursts of crystal, strung along like Kugane lantern-lights- Lead by the abyss, they weave into a little nook, find a box sealed tight by age and rust and tuck it under their arm. Idly, they wonder what might be inside- The warrior remembers whispers about discarded Garlean technology, and the shadow sharply jabs at them in return, scolding them for thinking of _fetch quests_ in the few moments they truly feel _free_.

So together, they partake freely of that innocent wish to adventure; And if the warrior didn’t know any better, they’d think Fray is enjoying this.

Perhaps they _don’t_ know better, and Fray actually is. Their shadow scoffs, the aether in their soul crystal almost boiling over to chastise them- But their chest is warm, one and a half souls curled against each other, shimmering, blurring, fluid. They flow and ebb with the Lochs, drift off into nowhere but the depths, fleeing from the sun, washing over the ilms its light cannot reach. They are breaking waves, latent flow. In the deep, black aether sways along with no fear of falling.

 

Bells pass, and the warrior resurfaces long after morning has dawned, crawling out onto salt in the shallows. Wiscar startles and screams.

“By Rhalgr, this is the _second damned time_ this week!”

 

* * *

 

It is blindingly bright, but their eyes have accustomed to the perpetual daylight- They make the best of it, appreciate the rays in the dust motes, the way it fractures and scatters when it hits crystal, the way it quietly passes through the roofs of the Crystarium.

But the spaces in the sky where Nhaama would watch over them ring hollow in their chest, the stars they followed all their life nowhere to be seen. The sky is not the same, so they tear at it as if it were a tapestry, claw at the fabrics of the world, hoping to find the inky black of night just beyond.

For order, they shout with a savage swing of their blade.

For balance, they hum, hiding from the glare of day under broad-leafed trees.

 **_You can say it's for yourself_** , Fray grumbles. **_No one will blame you._ **

In the peace they find at the edges of an apocalypse, they fiddle with fragments of shells on their clearing in the lakelands, fashion dice out of teeth and knuckle-bones in the boughs of trees, play games with the children in the slums of Eulmore. The wind is lukewarm, the ground brittle and earthy, but inexplicably, that too feels like home. Their shadow keeps their silence, but there are moments of sleight-of-hand the children marvel at that the warrior cannot comprehend nor hope to consciously replicate.

**_Don’t look at me like that._ **

**_… Rielle liked that trick._ **

Skip-skid of the heart. Their shadow drifts away, retreating to a corner of their mind they know not to overthink- But they still catch fragments of Rielle's laughter embedded in their heart, of Sidurgu's flustered spluttering when he gets it wrong for the umpteenth time. The warrior still dedicates a few hours in an attempt at learning the trick, afterwards, only to be rewarded with aching hands and a die down their sleeve, trapped in their shirt under plate and mail; The awkward little wiggle they do to fish it back out attracts a few raised eyebrows as they curse and scrabble at their coat, and they decide that maybe they shouldn’t be doing this at an inn table.

Idling in their room, they wonder how the others are all doing- The Scions at the Waking Sands, _ekh_ and _eej_ , Rielle and Sidurgu. The fact they’re all so far away worries them. The fact they’re no longer under the same sky deeply unsettles them. The stars do not watch over anyone here, nor does Nhaama- There is nothing but the sun, in all his unforgiving glory.

But the waters remain, blue-green as ever. Between towering trees, among the faeries, purple leaves floating upon the surface, at the edges of those slums they drift back towards again and again, the waters remain. Alone but together, they dance along purple shores, sing folk songs that no one in this world can hope to know.

_seashells underfoot_

_days long past_

_we whisper, we whisper_

_under nhaama’s light_

 

_seashells in our hands_

_days to come_

_we hope, we hope_

_in azim’s radiance_

 

Hands outstretched, their voice rings out into the eternal day, an eternity they swear to break.

But for now, they are tired, and the light offers little reprieve. Coiling around their feet, their shadow quietly offers rest for their swimming starlet.

**_What was that you said?_ **

**_Nowhere but the depths, now._ **

They laugh, step and twirl to the edge of the lake-  


-and let themselves fall.

 

* * *

 

Black aether burns bright beneath their palm from where it blossoms from their chest, where they dig their claws in as if intending to wrest their heart out from between their ribs- It coalesces around their soul crystal into something solid, certain, filling the gaps in their fingers the way it was meant to.

The warrior gasps, eyelids fluttering. Fray breathes out, slowly, steadily. Muted brilliance strikes sharp against the hazy darkness of their form where they kneel in front of their warrior.

Two pairs of eyes open. Twin suns look into forge-glare. There is a pause, a silence light and afloat.

“You,” Fray starts, taking that silence and breaking it over their knee, tone flat.

“It’s been ten seconds,” the warrior chortles. “What’d I do this time?”

The shadow puts a hand to their faceplate, slides it over their eyes in pure exasperation. “First of all.”

They shake the same hand at the triple triad cards stacked on the warrior’s lap; Probably would have gestured with both, if the warrior weren’t gently holding fray’s other hand between their own. “Do you _really_ mean to make a habit of summoning me to play cards with you?”

The wind cards its hands through sandy hair as the au ra makes a considering noise. Fray lets their gaze flicker away to take in their surroundings- Kneeling on a picnic blanket, an open basket of various Bismarck finger sandwiches next to their knee, an upset pile of napkins they had knocked over while materialising. The sea sings its familiar song to them, quiet rush and waves breaking against rock from where they sit on the sleepy La Noscea fields.

A picnic. How asinine.

But they cannot find it in themself to bristle. Instead, they sit cross-legged reach for the cards on the warrior’s lap and take half of them. “Fine. What rules?”

The warrior smiles and releases Fray’s hand to bring out their own premade deck- They may as well had gone all-open. “Fallen Ace and Plus.” they say instead.

“... Plus.” A sigh as the shadow rifles through the stack, select their first of five, collect the rest off the other’s lap to look through those, too. “I might take a low-rarity deck and win just to spite you.”

“At least I didn’t say Order.”

Fray takes another two cards, glares upwards at their warrior. “I’d have left on the spot if you did.”

The warrior grins. “Would you have?”

Another sigh- The warrior knows the answer, they both know they do. They also don’t really seem to expect it aloud, as they offhandedly reach for a sandwich and take a bite. To that end, Fray does not reply, takes another two cards onto their hand and leans back.

“... You go first.”

The cloth of their barbut sways in the warm breeze. The waves break again, again, again. They breathe deep of the sea-salt air, let the memory of brine seep into their aether. It is a refreshing sting, the water clear with no traces of unnatural storm. They think freely of the ocean, feel no fear, no hate.

To both the light and the abyss, to the warrior and their shadow;  


 

    --It is home.

 

 


End file.
